


the void that cries through you

by politeia



Series: Sasusaku-Headcanons [2012-2014] [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politeia/pseuds/politeia
Summary: Never compromise.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Series: Sasusaku-Headcanons [2012-2014] [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765711
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	the void that cries through you

The city’s marketplace was beautiful enough to rival Konoha’s, with cobblestoned streets lined with colorful stalls that were manned by enterprising merchants. The citizens were bustling about with purpose, enthusiastically perusing the myriad of goods and services being sold all around them. It was noisy, busy, and the air was practically heavy with the energy of ongoing trade. In fact, the place radiated success, so much so that she would have found it difficult to believe how young it was if she had not known its history.

Had she been anywhere else, Haruno Sakura would have probably loved the city’s busy atmosphere, even thrived in it.

But as it was, all the good cheer, all the signs of progress, only served to dampen her spirits.

It was humbling - if not completely depressing - to walk through the busy streets of Otogakure. And if she had any choice in the matter, she would not have taken the mission handed out by her (traitor of a) former sensei, now the Hokage of her hometown.

Sighing, she trudged through the sprawling marketplace, trying not to think of how its lively commerce bespoke of a healthy economy, and how that, in turn, bespoke of the wisdom and talent of the city’s young ruler. She also tried not think about how the city’s mere presence bespoke of said young ruler’s rather uncanny ability to cut off and discard old ties, including the one he (might – because she never really was sure) have had with her.

Part of her was happy that he was doing so well. The other, more honest part of her, felt bitter that he never really seemed to need them as much as they needed him. Also, the fact that Oto was rapidly rising through the ranks of the hidden villages, more rapidly than any other village before it, including Konoha, felt like a mockery of all that she knew and loved.

It made her question herself, and everything she believed in. Had he been right all along? Had she been wrong to chase him around, to even go so far as to force him to come back? Had she been wrong to hold on for so long? Had she been–

All introspection came to an abrupt halt when she rounded a corner and went into the town square. A large crowd had gathered, filling the place to the point that it became difficult to maneuver through. Sakura’s brows furrowed, wondering what all the commotion was about, when the loud snap of a trapdoor opening and the sickening thwack of a rope going taut caught her attention. She screamed, but her cry was drowned by the crowd erupting in a deafening roar of approval. And then everything seemed to slow; she could hear nothing but shrill white noise, could see nothing but the suspended, still-twitching bodies.

Dizzy, she felt dizzy.

Swaying, she turned and pushed her way through the crowd and out of the square, back to the safe sanity of the market, and hopefully - as quickly as possible - out of the gates of this infernal city. She was fully intent on abandoning her mission, consequences be damned. Kakashi could strip her of her ninja rank, for all she cared - just as long as she never needed to spend a single second more in Oto. She felt like retching - could taste the bile rising from the back of her throat.

She had never been a stranger to death, but this– and by someone she knew-

She could almost see the pillars adorning the doorway to the city when she felt a hand grasp her wrist.

“Sakura.”

The painfully familiar voice sliced through her panic, rendering her immobile.

“Sakura,” he called again, more insistently this time, concern and impatience lacing his voice.

She was almost afraid to turn around and look at him, for fear of seeing a monster. But when she did, she saw nothing but the same handsome face, the same brooding frown, the same messy dark hair, the same boy she still loved.

“Sasuke-kun,” she breathed.

“You look sick.”

It took her a moment to process what he said, but it was that deadpan comment so typical of him that brought her back to reality and allowed her to reacquaint herself with her surroundings, and with her purpose for being there.

“I feel sick,” she finally answered, meaning it in more ways than one.

What she saw unnerved her, showed her exactly the extent to which her former teammate was willing to go for his principles. It sickened her, how he could be so ruthless and inhuman, and wrong. And it made her thankful that he never got his hands on beautiful Konoha, twisted though it may be beneath the surface.

More than that, though, she felt such deep disgust at herself. How could she still– But there was no denying it, no matter how much she wished otherwise. Even after years of growth and separation and even after such a jarring, disgusting shock, it was still there - that all-encompassing feeling that consumed her and blinded her to everything else whenever he was in the vicinity. And that surety - that certainty - that she would still do anything and everything she could, if it meant that he would have just a sliver of happiness. It was still there.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion before his expression dissolved into one of understanding.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. You’re early. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

Sakura found that she had no answer to that. She wondered what would have happened if she had been on schedule and had never witnessed the horrible spectacle that she just did. She knew on a cerebral level that it was better for her to have known of this, especially if she were to negotiate with him on behalf of her own village.

“Come. We can have our meeting at the tower”, Sasuke gestured to her, and they began walking in an uncomfortable silence.

She knew she should have been thinking of their upcoming meeting, but all she could think of was the public execution and all of its implications.

“What were their crimes?”, she finally asked, unable to hold the question in.

“Theft.”

She fought to keep her voice steady, but failed completely when she heard his answer.

“Theft?! Theft! How much did they have to steal to warrant an execution? This is _wrong_ , Sasuke-kun” her anger sputtered out from her in a show of indignance as she stopped walking, adopting a rigid, unbudging, almost challenging stance.

Sasuke stopped too, a few steps ahead of her, then turned to her, his brows furrowed.

“It doesn’t matter. Theft is theft.”

“What did they steal?”

“It doesn’t matter. I never compromise.”

Sakura’s lips thinned. “I still want to know. Indulge me.”

Sasuke grit his teeth. She knew he was probably annoyed, but that didn’t matter. She had to know.

“I have never hid what I am from you, Sakura, but you have always been adamant in your delusions.”

There was a bitter, angry tinge in his voice that went unnoticed by the fuming pink-haired girl.

“Indulge me”, she said again, more firmly this time.

“Fine,” he bit out, his voice laced with vitriol, “One stole money, the other stole bread. Now will you let the subject drop?. You’re not here to discuss principles with me. And frankly, you have been remiss in showing the Otokage more deference. Need I remind you that it is your village that asked for this meeting?”

Some of the bluster left Sakura then. Kakashi had sent her here thinking that Sasuke had at least a soft spot for her. But if she made him angry, then Konoha’s chances of opening a trade route with one of the most significantly growing markets grew very dim. She had advised him that it would have be wiser to send Shikamaru in her stead, but Kakashi hadn’t listened. Either way, what was done was done She had a mission, and she could never allow herself to be the cause of Konoha’s economic collapse, even if the possibility of said collapse was still very far in the future.

She drew a deep breath, and clenched her fist. She was a Konoha kunoichi, and she would not show weakness. She would not embarrass herself further. Especially not in front of him.

“I apologize, Otokage-sama. Please forgive my manners.”

She gave a deep bow then, and completely missed the painful frown that briefly crossed Sasuke’s features.

* * *

“Sakura.”

“Otokage-sama”, she greeted as she made a formal bow, again missing his slight flinch. This was already their fourth meeting, and they had been making steady progress in advancing the mutual interests of their own respective villages.

When she had gotten home from her first mission – a success, despite its rocky start – she had discussed the issue with Kakashi, and it turned out that he knew already knew about it. While fundamentally disagreeing with Sasuke’s philosophy, Konoha had no say in the matter. It was his village, his rules, and they had to respect that. Besides, if she did not have a vested interest in who the said leader was, she probably would not have reacted so strongly. They had, after all, seen much worse, even before the war.

And as always, Kakashi was (frustratingly, irritatingly) right.

As it was, Sakura was advised to keep things civil and to refrain from further judgment – which was why she had to be the picture of a perfectly polite diplomat right now.

It was difficult, though. She saw him more often these days, and yet he felt more distant than ever, more out of her reach. He always treated her with respect, but never with warmth. And that made her feel like her insides were slowly churning in a sea of acid.

Still, even if things were this way, it was better than never knowing where he was, or how he was. It was better than forever chasing after his shadow, never knowing if he was still alive or if he had died somewhere, alone and un-mourned.

This was better, still not ‘ideal’, but better. And if it was the only thing she could ever have with him, no matter how inadequate, she would take it.

* * *

“So, Otokage-sama, Konoha will send you a percentage of the tax collected from grain sales and Oto will–”

“Walk with me.”

She blinked at the suggestion, unsure of what to make of this new development. She had come back numerous times, and they usually just stayed in the confines of his office to hash out the finer details of their villages’ trade agreements. So this - this _thing_ \- was a very unusual change. But of course, no matter what her misgivings, she could hardly refuse an offer from the Otokage.

“Okay,” she agreed uncertainly.

She fell into pace beside him as they stepped out of the office, out of the tower, and into the streets, lapsing into a companionable silence.

Usually, whenever she visited Oto, she made a beeline for the Kage’s tower, then went straight back out as soon as their meetings were concluded. This would be the first time she would actually see the village since her primary visit here, when she found that she had lost all interest in learning more of it after seeing the bloody pillars that kept it in place.

But she had to admit, Oto was becoming rather impressive in terms of growth. Give or take a few decades, it might just become the most successful village out there, even more so than Konoha – of course, in her opinion, that success came at too high a price.

But she had decided long ago that, though she did not agree with Sasuke, and in fact condemned his methods, she would not judge him. It was not her place to do so, and he certainly never asked for her approval.

Still, Oto was a pleasant town, peaceful and lively, and you did not have to watch your belongings too closely even when you passed by the more crowded streets. And she found that, as long as she steered clear of the village square, it was a wonderful place to be.

Unfortunately, that seemed to be where Sasuke was taking her.

Her trepidation grew as they drew closer and closer, and her steps were beginning to falter. Sasuke must have noticed, for he lightly took hold of her elbow and guided her through the streets. People, she noticed, were making a path for them, all of them with their eyes averted, children in particular took particular care to keep hidden – a very stark contrast to how Konoha’s villagers treated the third, or Tsunade, Kakashi, and as the future Hokage, Naruto.

Sasuke was the people’s leader, but he seemed to feel more like an overlord. The people respected him, but did not love him.

Then, just as they were about to turn the corner into the village square, she paused, unable to take a step further. She wondered if he was going to show her another execution, if he was trying to make a point, though for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why. Things had been going well between them, maybe not warm, but well. She hadn’t said a single thing about his philosophy, not a single criticism, though she had many.

As if sensing her reluctance, he sighed and said.

“It’s okay. Listen.”

She did, and to her surprise, she heard music.

Sakura looked questioningly at Sasuke, to which he gave a small (painfully beautiful) smirk, as he placed a hand at the small of her back and lightly pushed her towards the square.

The place was transformed. It was still crowded, but the atmosphere was completely different. Everywhere, people were dancing and singing. Various instruments and voices converged together in a lively, upbeat melody. There were colorful banners hanged in several places all around the square, tents and stalls scattered all over the place in an organized mess.

“It’s the annual music festival. Music, as you well know, is Oto’s thing. I think it’s very important to keep culture alive. Come.”

He led her into a small purple tent. Inside, the lights were dim, and there was a small band that was playing slow , somewhat melancholic music, through flutes.

“This band is my personal favorite.”

Sakura’s eyes widened at the personal information that he just offered. This was completely unlike him. Usually, their conversations were limited to percentages, tariffs, and trade agreements.

She would have commented on it, but Sasuke had fallen silent and contemplative as he closed his eyes and let the song’s melody wash over him. 

Sakura could not take her eyes off of him, afraid that if she blinked, she would lose sight of this new and beautiful side of Sasuke that she had never before seen.

When the song ended, Sasuke turned to her, holding her gaze, as he spoke, too softly, too tentatively, too sadly.

“I’m not a monster, Sakura.”

Tears, unbidden, pooled in her eyes, as she reached up to cup his face, but she paused, afraid, unsure if he would allow her to take such a liberty. Much to her surprise, however, he took hold of her hand and brought it to his face.

“I don’t know you at all, do I, Sasuke-kun?”

Sasuke seemed to lean into her touch further at the sound of his name. Then, he let out a deep breath.

“No,” he whispered, “no you don’t—“

“I am so, _so,_ _sorry_ , Sasuke-kun—”, she began crying in earnest, then, regret and shame and joy and exaltation permeating over every fiber of her being as he pulled her into his arms.

That day marked the very first time that Sakura stayed longer than she had to in the Hidden Village of Otogakure.

* * *

What he did was wrong.

It was _wrong_ , and he had _no right_.

It was selfish, and it was stupid, it was _weak_ , and it was _wrong_.

He shouldn’t have taken her to the festival.

In fact, he shouldn’t have seen her again at all.

He knew, he knew, the moment he saw her running out on the very first time she visited his village, that it would just be better to let her go, let Konoha send someone else. He knew he should have let her leave with the blinders off, seeing the ugly horror that he really is.

But as always, the fact that it was Sakura made him settle for half-measures.

The girl did have a knack for shaking his resolve, of messing up whatever order he had in his head, of making him do that exact opposite of what he had wanted to do in the first place, of making him want to meet expectations but falling miserably, horribly, short – and he had known of all of that from the very start, from the moment he felt her arms around him and cleared the haze of bloodthirst from his head all those years ago at the Forest of Death.

Sakura was dangerous. And he knew that.

In fact, he should have rejected Kakashi’s offer to send Sakura there for negotiations in the first place, that bastard.

Maybe he should have killed her– no, no, he knew, knew with a sick, disgusting certainty, that had he been successful then, it would have been his undoing, the snap of the last thread holding his sanity. He would not have been able to come back from whatever void he had descended to, if he had been the one to end her. He did not like to admit it, but he knew that his failure then was one of the few small mercies that the fates had given him (and another one of the many favors he owed Naruto).

But he should have, at the very least, stopped himself from bringing her to the festival.

He groaned, slumping at his desk in frustration, wishing that he could somehow turn back time and erase yesterday. He had been doing so damn well. But it was the way she addressed him, each time the words _“Otokage-sama”_ left her lips, he felt like pins and needles were being driven underneath his nails.

Her presence, so available and yet so forbidden from him, was bad enough - but her disdain, her disdain was too much. And it was the last straw. He wouldn’t have been able to take it, if he heard her call him _“_ _Otokage-sama”_ one more time.

He was tired, he was just so very _tired_.

He could handle the world’s hatred - it was hard, but he could do it. He could handle his village’s lack of love for him, even as he sacrificed his entire being, even as he sacrificed every chance for happiness, just for them. He could handle it all.

He had resolved to do so the moment he… the moment he walked away from her, actually.

When she asked him not to, asked him not to walk away if he felt anything - no matter how little - for her. That was when he threw every shred of his past and every hope of a happy future away. Another mistake - _there, then_ – he should have told her he felt nothing, should have dashed all her feelings with a swift and final rejection, should not have listened to her confession in the first place. But he _needed_ to hear her words, _needed_ it for the years of solitude to come, _needed_ it, even as he knew that it would be his torture and his redemption at the same time.

She was cruel, then, for offering up something he knew he could not, should not, accept. There was always a touch of cruelty in Sakura’s unconditional kindness. And he was cruel too, for leaving her as he did. But then there was a touch of kindness in his cruelty as well, never mind that his kindness always fell short, as it did again, in that moment.

Another half-measure, another mistake.

But still, a girl like Sakura had no business being with him, just as he told Kakashi. He had told Kakashi he wasn’t interested - a _lie_. It had been easier, much easier, to lie to Kakashi. But he had a feeling that the old man hadn’t been fooled.

 _D_ _amn_ him.

Kakashi– he had to write Kakashi a letter. This was the least he could do for her.

He straightened up, quickly took a piece of blank paper, and wrote down:

> _Hokage-sama:_
> 
> _I would like to formally request a replacement for Haruno Saku••_

But then a small, unacknowledged part of himself said, _‘you’ve never been kind, why start now?’_ His hand faltered, and an ink stain blossomed on the piece of parchment. No. No. No-no-no-no-no. He would not succumb to weakness again. Angrily, he crushed the paper in his fist, and threw it away.

He began again.

> _Hokage-sama:_
> 
> _I would like to formally••_

Another ink blot. Another crumpled piece of paper.

Another try.

> _Hokage-sama:_
> 
> _I wou••_

Another piece of paper for the growing pile, and it seemed to be getting worse with every attempt.

> _Hok••_

Frustrated, he took another piece of paper, perhaps more forcefully than he should, and tried again.

He had to do this. _He_ _had to._

> _Hokage-sama:_
> 
> _I would like to formally request a replacement for Haruno Sakura in the trade negotiations._
> 
> _Uchiha Sasuke_
> 
> _Otokage_

If his writing was messier, the paper less immaculate, than usual, then the Hokage should just deal with it. This whole thing was his fault in the first place, after all.

Sighing, he affixed his seal on the parchment, rolled it up, and placed it into a sealed scroll container.

He stood up then, left his office, and slowly walked back into his bedroom, his feet feeling like they were laden with lead, his insides turning to ice.

Once there, he stared at her form for a few minutes, feeling time go both too quickly and too slowly as he drank in the sight of her. 

Then he shook her awake and handed her the scroll.

“Deliver this to your Hokage.”

Sakura sit up and looked at him, confusion etched in her face.

“Sasuke-kun?”

His name sounded beautiful in her lips.

And she looked beautiful like that, her eyes still clouded with sleep, her hair in disarray, her affection for him in full display. He would remember this moment for the rest of his life.

And then comprehension dawned, and her expression turned stony.

“Of course, _Otokage-sama_ ”, she said, mustering up as much dignity as she could while she gathered her clothes, “of course.”

* * *

There were no more festivals, after that.

* * *

Sakura never came back.

Kakashi had been against it, offering up every bit of protest he could, saying that Sakura was the best negotiator they had and that she was still willing, even going so far as to say it was for Sasuke’s own good. But Sasuke reminded him that personal matters had no place in village negotiations, and Oto was prepared to withdraw if the Konoha remained obstinate.

Shikamaru was sent to Oto soon after.

Ever efficient, ever impersonal, and a breeze to work with. He came to Oto month after month, for several years, and there was not a single hitch to their working relationship.

“That concludes matters, then,” Sasuke said as he stacked up the pieces of parchment gathered on the table. Shikamaru stood up to leave, but seemed reluctant, causing Sasuke to look up at him inquiringly.

“Otokage-sama,” Shikamaru began tentatively in his signature nasal drawl, “if I may offer up some unsolicited advice…”

Sasuke raised a fine brow at the unusual occurence, but did not interrupt.

“You are moving too fast with all these reforms, and I do admit, Oto is growing exponentially. However, you are pushing too hard and too fast. And the thickening of the military presence in your outskirts has not gone unnoticed. The people will not take to it, nor will the other villages.”

“Is that a threat, Shikamaru?”

“Not at all,” Shikamaru seemed unperturbed, “it’s just friendly advice. You know you have strong ties in our village, especially with the Hokage and the next-in-line, and we will stand by you as much as we can. But it is no secret that Oto and Konoha’s principles do not align, not as much as, say, with Suna or Kumo.”

“You are saying that Konoha will remain neutral, should war break out.”

“Yes,“ he admitted quietly, "You should slow down, Otokage-sama.”

When Sasuke said nothing, Shikamaru continued, growing annoyed, his voice rising.

“You act like you have a death wish, Sasuke. Naruto and Sakura are–”

“You step out of line, ambassador. Leave before I decide to take offense.”

Shikamaru paused and looked intently at Sasuke for a few minutes, then he sighed.

“She asked me to tell you to be careful and to tell you that it’s not too late”, he said at last.

_“Leave.”_

“Troublesome,” Shikamaru muttered under his breath as he turned and walked away, not knowing why he even bothered to try.

* * *

The revolts began in the outskirts – too early, and too quickly. A militia had formed, secretly funded by Kiri, Kumo, and Iwa. There was no aid from Konoha.

It was a bloody war, a war that rapidly spread from outside in, no matter how much he tried to control the situation. If it wasn’t the militia killing the villagers, it was the Otokage himself who did, for harboring militia. It was always either one or the other.

Sasuke realized a bit too late that he was not as strong as he thought he was. He also realized, a bit too late as well, that he was every bit as foolish as he brother called him.

He was too late to see the signs, and too slow to react, confident as he was in his position of power. He hadn’t expected the people to turn on him too, though he knew he should have.

He was _always_ too late for everything. Too late to save his family, too late to find out the truth about his brother, too late to admit his mistakes.

He should have followed Shikamaru’s advice, what would probably been his council’s advice, had he just not been too proud and too stupid to form one. He should have slowed down, dealt with the other villages more diplomatically, been a bit more repentant and solicitous, made more allies than enemies, _made his people happier_. If he had, he might have salvaged the situation. But he hadn’t, and now the capital city was destitute and in flames, his military had deserted him, and his only way to achieve victory with his pride intact was to kill each and every one of the angry mob outside, _his people_.

He could do it, too.

But he was _tired_.

_He was so tired._

He was tired of the hatred, tired of being wrong, of being too late; he was _tired of everything._

Not even bothering to change out of his blood-soaked clothes, he collapsed into his bed in the tower that was not quite his home, closed his eyes, and thought of the what if’s and the what could’ve beens. He thought of his family. Then he thought of how bright Naruto’s future must be, how great of a leader Kakashi must be, how everyone else must be better than him.

Then he thought of her.

 _It would not be long now_ , he thought wryly as he listened to the outraged cries of the people outside… maybe he should just…

A warm hand on his brow.

“Sasuke-kun,” a too-familiar voice called.

Panic, anger, denial, bitterness, and sweet and utter happiness, swelled in his chest at that moment.

“You shouldn’t be here, Sakura,” he said, not even bothering to mask the pain from his voice as he straightened up and gathered her up in his arms, “you _shouldn’t_ be here.”

“I’m sorry, Sasuke-kun, I should have come here earlier. I– I’m so weak, so stupid– I should never have–”

He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, as he hid his face at the crook of her neck. In the end, he couldn’t even save her from himself.

 _“Please. No.”_ , he said, as if wishing it could make it so, could make her be somewhere else - in Konoha, safe in her own room, with her family, with Naruto, Kakashi – anywhere else, really. But she remained there, _with him_ , too real, too close.

Her headband was conspicuously absent, and she looked a bit worse for wear. But she was there. Briefly, he wondered how she even got there, but then she was a talented kunoichi in her own right, and he knew shouldn’t even be surprised. Of course, if she managed to get in, she could still get out, it wasn’t hard to dodge a mob. But that was foolish. She wouldn’t have taken the trouble to break into the tower if she meant to leave.

 _“You shouldn’t be here.”_ , he said again, though he was already beginning to thank the fates that she was. He was selfish, after all, and never too kind.

“And _you_ ,” she whispered, her smile watery as she put soft, pale arms around him, “shouldn’t be alone.”

He was tired, now, too tired to fight. 

So he gave in.

_“Thank you.”_

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

>  **Epilogue**  
>  There is a farm, near the border between the Land of Fire and the Land of Rivers. In that farm is a man who contents himself with growing wheat and with raising poultry and cattle. Also in that farm is a woman, who lives to fill the man’s every day with happiness, just as she promised him twice before when they children.
> 
> They have children of their own now, a shy boy with a serious demeanor, named after the man’s brother, and a little girl with a naughty streak that she seemed to have inherited from her surrogate uncle who visits once a week (still too often for comfort, the man always grudgingly says, though he does not really mean it).
> 
> And they have another one on the way, who will most probably grace the world with his or her presence in two to three months. 
> 
> The man and the woman and their children are there because nothing, no matter how dire, is ever ‘too late’.
> 
> The woman knew of this long before; she simply just had to teach the man - and the man, he just had to give in.
> 
> posted on sasusaku-headcanons, last 10/12/2014 [[link](https://sasusaku-headcanons.tumblr.com/post/99802429701/46-the-void-that-cries-through-you)]


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